


Blueberry Muffins

by scribblemymind



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemymind/pseuds/scribblemymind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry works at the local café and Niall's just the shy kid who always buys their blueberry muffins. (coffee-shop AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blueberry Muffins

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to beka (soundingawkward on ao3 or nicktomlinshaw on tumblr) for beta'ing and being wonderful. :3

It’s a small café.  
  
Just a little shop on the street corner, a little ways away from all the action on the roads, but it’s there, nevertheless.  
  
Harry Styles goes to the cafe every day after Uni, or maybe it’s just because he works there. Either way, it’s quite a quaint little space, a very lovely place to just sit around, perhaps mulling over thoughts over a cup of coffee and a scone.  
  
As Harry opens the door and enters the café the charms in the door way tinkle joyfully. Waving and grinning merrily at his boss, Lou Teasedale, and his friend (and fellow employee) Josh Devine, Harry saunters to the back room to put away his stuff. His bag is quite heavy; weighed down with all the things a normal Uni student has in his backpack; binders, books, and basically tons of random stuff, old chewing gum wrappers and uncapped pens. He drops it to the floor, it slumps over and Harry sticks his tongue out at it in quite a childlike manner, but he doesn’t care too much. He’s just a bit excited to start on his shift for…reasons.  
  
Well, reasons that basically all end up pointing, with big light-up arrows, to _the boy_.  
  
Harry doesn’t know much about him. At all, really, except that he’s blonde, around Harry’s own age and he comes in at the exact same time, every single day. He slips through the door, his head ducked, and always buys a large blueberry muffin, mumbling a quiet “thank you” afterwards. He always scoots around the lines of people and takes his seat right by the window. It’s always exactly same. Harry’s gotten so used to it, that it feels normal to walk to the café after class, expecting the boy to walk through the door as he slips on his logo-ed café apron.  
  
Harry’s mind starts to wander as he brews up a nice, dark roast coffee for a bumbling large lady who arrives at the counter. His hands work automatically, being used to working the afternoon shift at the counter, and so his mind resumes to the topic of the boy. _The boy,_ Harry thinks. _I’ve got to stop calling him that_ ; _learn his name or something_. With slight embarrassment gathering butterflies in his stomach ( _cliché_ , Harry thinks), he wonders if the boy likes guys or not.  
  
It’s common knowledge to everyone that Harry swings for the opposite team, and, well, pretty much everyone’s okay with it. Besides the occasional girl that he’s hooked up with a couple of times; he discovered, after about the second night of drunken dancing and sloppy kissing, that he just wasn’t into birds. Not like that, at least; he much rather prefers blokes, anyway. And of course his best mate (and flatmate) Louis, was first to know (or rather, figure it out, when he caught Harry staring at the ass of this guy that used to buy cappuccinos on Harry’s shift…yeah, Harry doesn’t like to talk about it).  
  
He also figures, it might not have been such a good idea to finally tell Louis about the (hot) mysterious boy that comes into the café after a couple weeks of casual glancing over his shoulder, because just his luck, of course Louis goes to Uni with _the boy_. Of fucking course.  
  
“Mate, I’m pretty sure he’s even gayer than you are. Wait, random question, but shit, do you top or bottom? I betcha he’s a bottom. He looks the type.” Louis announced quite loudly one day, walking through the cafe doors causing quite a few stares and also causing the temporary disappearance of Harry Styles under the counter ledge.  
  
It’s not that he doesn’t trust Louis – that crazy boy is his best friend – but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up just to have them crushed by a rejection, a horrified stare, and no more blonde boy to look at.  
  
(But then again, Louis is the master of gay, so Harry doubts he’s wrong; Lou’s had more boyfriends than he can count on his fingers and toes. He _is_ currently dating a bloke named Zayn and trying to (not-so) kindly tell his ex, Liam, that he definitely doesn’t want him back, and at the same time trying to seduce this Nick guy a few years older than him, and Louis’ love life is just _way_   too complicated for Harry. At least for Harry’s just involves staring longingly at a cute blonde boy without any trouble.)  
  
And as Harry thoughts turn to a strange sort of worry ( _because fuck, it’s past four and the boy isn’t here yet_ ), and as he collects the money from the lady whom he owes the coffee to, he looks out the window and sees a familiar figure weaving in and out through the crowds of people outside. All concern is replaced with a sort of bubbling and excitement in the pit of his stomach, while he swiftly straightens out his apron with the café logo on it, and shakes his curls away from his green eyes. _The boy_ walks through the door, the bells on it jingling merrily.  
  
“Hey,” Harry smiles warmly at the blonde that occupies 97.8% of his thoughts during the day, while a tingling sensation travels through his limbs, along with some more embarrassment. He hasn’t been waiting for this boy since 3:47, no, of course he hasn’t. He just ignores the fluttery feeling and asks, “What would you like today?”  
  
(Of course he already knows the answer, but he thinks it would probably seem a little bit creepy if he knew what this particular boy ordered every single day.)  
  
“I’ll have the blueberry muffin, please.”  
  
Harry’s stomach does quite a few somersaults and acrobatics at the slight Irish accent in the smaller boy’s voice. It’s smooth like vanilla, but at the same time, has a bit of a rough edge to it. Not to mention it’s entrancing. He decides he likes the boy’s voice.  
  
(Well actually, that’s a factor that’s been decided long ago, the first time Harry heard his voice, was when he decided it; but, whatever, it gives him a weird sort of warm chill whenever he hears the accent, and he always thinks to himself how much he likes the sound of it.)  
  
“Sure thing,” he flashes a smile at the blonde, whose cheeks are now a lovely shade of pink, never looking up from the counter where his eyes are trained.  
  
Harry bends down to grab the still-warm muffin with a pair of plastic tongs and places it in a paper bag. When he stands back up, the other boy already has the exact change in his hand. “Thanks,” he says, the cash register clanking loudly as he disposes the coins in the right places. “Have a nice day.”  
  
“Thanks, and you too,” the boy says, his eyes finally flickering up to meet Harry’s almost-always-constant stare. All thoughts leave the curly haired lad’s head as their gazes connect for a fraction of a second, but, it’s enough. It’s enough for Harry’s breath to hitch in his throat, and for his stomach flutter and flip and flop like a feather floating down from the sky. He feels a bit like a feather, he notes absentmindedly. It’s kind of like drowning in a pool of crystal clear water, too, like a spring lake still pure and untainted. He’s so lost in the boy’s bright, blue, (pretty) eyes that he just barely manages to stutter out some half-coherent response before the boy turns around, his eyes down to the dull grey carpet on the floor, and takes his usual seat against the window.  
  
(What’s up with him making Harry all flustered and incoherent? Harold Edward Styles never gets flustered. Okay, well, maybe this time is the exception.)  
  
The rest of the seventeen minutes the boy is in the cafe for (okay, yes, so what if Harry keeps count?), his eyes almost never leave, watching the beautiful, blonde, blue eyed angel, while the late-summer sun streams through the pane of glass and illuminates his hair like a halo.  
  
—-  
  
It’s a week later – Friday, to be exact – when Harry finally gets the courage to try and talk to the quiet boy. He figures, he spent the last three days getting lost in those eyes, and still was able to speak without being all flabbergasted and breathless. So that’s a point for him. This time, when he gives the blonde boy the blueberry muffin, their fingers brush and it isn’t Harry this time that’s opening and closing his mouth dumbly like a fish out of water.  
  
“Hey, what’s your name?” the curly haired boy smiles nervously, afraid the blonde will take off and never come back (and Harry just _can’t_ have that, he’s dreading the thought of never seeing the boy again).  
  
“I’m… I’m Niall.”  
  
The voice is hesitant, and quiet, but Harry’s stomach still does flips and flops to the almost melodic, sweet tone.  
  
“Nice to meet you Niall, I’m Harry,” he extends his hand out towards the boy on the other side of the counter. Niall takes it, his fingers curling gently around Harry’s hand, and the brunette lets out a silent breath he didn’t know he was holding.  
  
“D’ya wanna grab lunch sometime?” Harry blurts out, so suddenly he doesn’t even know if it was him or not. Evidently it was, judging by Niall’s wide blue eyes, his face masked in shock and surprise. And then he realizes what he just did. Fuck, did he just ask Niall out on a date?  
  
He can feel his face heating up and burning crimson, and he’s thinking to himself how he’s just messed everything up, when Niall speaks up, and surprises him this time.  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Harry realizes he’s still holding onto Niall’s hand. He quickly lets go, clearing his throat and brushing his finger through his curls, watching the other boy shift his weight and blush as well. “Did you say sure?”  
  
“Yeah…” Niall responds slowly, picking up his bag with the sweet blueberry muffin in it.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
There’s a short silence in the air as Niall’s eyes flicker back and forth and Harry watches the blue orbs, almost mesmerized.  
  
“Okay…how about we meet here tomorrow at noon?” Harry asks, two concerns swimming in his mind; one, hoping he doesn’t sound too eager, and that he still has a chance with the blonde boy, and two, hoping that Niall doesn’t have a class during that time.  
  
“Sounds… good.” Niall’s lips turn up at the corner, into a small smile.  
  
(Harry’s pretty proud of himself for coaxing that smile out of Niall; he’s never seen the boy smile before, and it’s definitely something that he wants to see more.)  
  
He’s full on grinning now, as Niall takes his seat in the usual spot. As the door bells jingle and an exuberant lady walks in, the ecstatic cafe employee messes up her order twice.  
  
He has a hard time paying attention for the next twenty-two minutes, which his boss scolds him about; but as Niall smiles at him once more as he walks out of the café, he can’t really find it in him to care about anything else.  
  
—-  
  
Tomorrow comes pretty fast to Harry. The night before, he stayed up way too late, going over every scenario in his head. Once the thought of him slipping on the sidewalk and getting run over by a unicorn dragging a sleigh sounded too ridiculous, even for him, he turned over in bed and fell asleep.  
  
Although, he now thinks, it could be possible for him to slip and get run over. Not by a unicorn, but like, a transport truck or something of that sort. He is pretty clumsy, especially when he’s nervous. And maybe he’s just a tad more than nervous right now.  
  
At 12:03, the butterflies in his stomach have been doing dance recitals in his stomach for, oh, all morning. He’s sitting at a table in the back of the cafe, since he’s just got off for his lunch break ( _Josh gets to work the afternoon shift_ ; _deserves some sleep in time_ , Harry thinks to himself). He’s nervous about the whole is-this-a-date-or-is-it-not-lunch-maybe-date. What if Niall doesn’t show up? What if Niall went home and laughed at him, at how stupid and desperate and naïve he was?  
  
He worries like that for another good fifteen minutes, before he sighs in relief at the sight of a slightly flushed blonde haired boy speed-walking through the jingling door.  
  
“I, erm.. I’m sorry I’m a bit late,” Niall’s face takes on a pretty intense shade of red as he stutters. “I was, erm, I was getting ready ‘nd I lost track of the time–”  
  
“It’s okay,” he smiles at the stammering blue eyed lad, trying to be confident and reassuring, although the dance recitals in his stomach have basically turned into furious competitions and his mind feels like scrambled eggs (Harry blames Niall–just the way his eyebrows are slightly furrowed and his tongue is peeking out between his lips and the way his eyes are just _so blue_ , and he should probably stop staring but it’s like Niall’s snatched his gaze and never wants to let go of it).  
  
Niall soon captures his bottom lip in his teeth and Harry nearly loses it, almost wanting to just raise a hand a fan himself, because damn, if the dark jeans and tight polo weren’t already hot enough. But of course, he doesn’t want to seem like a complete loser, so he restrains himself and shoves his hands in his jean pockets instead, and clears his throat. “So I was thinking, if you wanted to, erm.. I don’t know if you wanna, but uhh..”  
  
Niall looks at him expectantly, and Harry silently curses himself for being so awkward. “Okay. Erm, I was wondering if you wanted to go down the street? There’s a place with sandwiches and stuff, and there’s like, bowling too…”  
  
He gulps, fearing once more that he’s come off as too eager. But Niall merely smiles shyly and nods his head. “Okay.”  
  
The two boys walk outside to the slightly cool air, contrasting with the warm sun. It is pretty warm out, considering the leaves have already begun to change colours and flutter off trees. They walk in silence, and Harry’s not sure if it’s a comfortable one or an awkward one; he pulls self-consciously on the hem of his t-shirt, nervous that he’s making a complete and utter fool of himself.  
  
(By this time he’s wondering where the calm, cool, and collected boy looking into the mirror at seven this morning is.)  
  
Harry and Niall walk in a comfortably awkward (awkwardly comfortable? Harry doesn’t know) silence, until they arrive at the bowling alley/sandwich shop. He opens the door and holds it for Niall, as they’re greeted by the warm smell of chicken or ham or something that smells really, really good. He sits down at the closest table, on one side of the booth and Niall on the other. The sun hits blonde hair through the window, and Harry feels like he’s back in the café; except this time he’s actually sitting across the brilliantly beautiful boy, instead of admiring from afar.  
  
And then Niall smiles, looking at him over the table and Harry can nearly hear his heart beat a little bit louder in his chest and feel his cheeks tingle and then he’s grinning back, because Niall has this charm to him; this happiness and this air of likableness about him. Harry thinks Niall’s probably got a power to steal all thoughts from his mind, and steal his heart too, because there’s no way in this moment that he can’t call Niall beautiful or wonderful or amazing or just _breathtaking_.  
  
Goddamn it.  
  
—-  
  
An hour and a half, a lot of sandwich halves, and many, many bowling balls in the gutter later, Harry and Niall walk down the sidewalk back down to the café.  
  
(Harry made Niall giggle when he landed on his–ahem–derriere, trying to throw the bowling ball; he’d be lying if he said he didn’t fall again just to hear the beautiful sound that left Niall’s lips.)  
  
Once walking through the doorway and after hearing the familiar door bells ringing, Harry sees the stern but amused face of his boss.  
  
“Shit, I’m late for work,” he chuckles to Niall under his breath.  
  
Niall immediately stops laughing and his eyebrows knit in concern. “Oh, I’m sorry for makin’ you so late.”  
  
Harry smiles, a little incredulously at Niall. “Nah, it’s fine! Lou Teasdale, she’s my boss, she won’t get me in trouble.” he turns around. “Right Lou? You love me too much,” he says loudly with a cheeky grin towards the woman standing behind the counter. She rolls her eyes, but her lips form a grin anyway.  
  
“Alright,” Niall says, a smile curling around his lips as well. “Well… Thanks Harry, for today. It was a lot of fun.”  
  
He almost goes all flustery and breathless again as he sees Niall’s eyes glowing, truly glowing, with a happiness or joyfulness. “Yeah, I had fun too,” Harry says softly, then breaks out into the most idiotic looking goofy grin possible. He brushes his hand against Niall’s. “See you around?”  
  
Niall nearly beams, and nods his head. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”  
  
And with that, Niall waves at Harry while walking out through the door, and as he watches Niall’s figure (and maybe he’s looking at his ass too, he’ll never tell), he has to sit down for a bit to catch his breath and just smile, because he’s all floaty and happiness and _rainbows and gumdrops and lollipops_ and almost dying right now.

—-  
  
It’s an overcast sort of gloomy Sunday night, but Harry’s still bouncing around and smiling and being a happy human being. He definitely didn’t go to sleep thinking about Niall’s laugh either. Definitely not.  
  
It’s 8:25 in the evening, when he’s getting ready to get off his shift and go home and maybe smile and think about his and Niall’s date some more (was it a date? He likes to think it was). The place is pretty much dead, but the door jingles anyway ( _God we have to get another chime thin_ _g_ , Harry thinks, _it’s getting annoying_ ). He’s cleaning up some boxes and crates in the storage/supply room, and he doesn’t see who’s at the counter until he leans way over from where he is in the back room, and _then_ he sees the mass of blonde hair.  
  
(Harry likes to pretend he calmly walked over, shooting a flirty grin and making Niall swoon. But he didn’t, not quite; it was something more along the lines of jumping up, tripping over his own two feet, and almost crawling to the counter where Niall was laughing at him.)  
  
“Hey,” Harry says softly, adjusting his shirt, a blush on his face, one, he’s sure, that will last him his whole lifetime.  
  
“Hi,” Niall says back, smiling, and then coughing to disguise a chuckle. “Could I get a blueberry muffin?”  
  
“Coming right up,” Harry grins, grabbing the paper bag. He’s still embarrassed, but whatever, laughing is the best way to make an embarrassing situation less awkward, right?  
  
“Thanks,” Niall replies, after Harry hands him the muffin in exchange for the coins to pay for it.  
  
“Welcome,” Harry says. He’s unable to get that stupid smile off his face. Damn you, Niall, he thinks to himself.  
  
“Are you getting off yer shift soon?” Niall asks, and Harry can hear the hopeful note in his voice.  
  
“Just now, actually,” he says with a sneaking suspicion that maybe Niall knew when he was getting off (or maybe there’s the off chance that Louis stopped him at Uni and told him… Harry wouldn’t be surprised); he waves goodbye to Lou who’s talking on the phone in the other room; she waves back and winks, and Harry gathers his bag, grinning. “Wanna walk?”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Harry and Niall both exit through the door, the blonde boy immediately pulling out the blueberry muffin.  
  
“Oh yeah, I never actually got to tell how good these are,” Niall says around a mouthful of the muffin.  
  
“Really? I make them.”  
  
“No way!”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry admits, a little sheepish. “I like to bake and cook. A lot.”  
  
“You should make me lots and lots more food sometime,” Niall jokes, sucking crumbs off his fingers.  
  
“Maybe I will,” Harry grins back, bumping his shoulder against Niall’s.  
  
Harry can feel electricity burning all through his veins, electricity sparked by Niall’s presence. The two boys fall into a comfortable silence while walking as Niall finishes eating.  
  
“So uhh…” Niall starts off, biting his bottom lip again. Harry has to very nearly pry his eyes away from the boy’s pretty pink lips to hear what Niall’s saying. “Erm, I never really uhh… Got your number yesterday, and I kinda, maybe, erm, wanted to talk t’ you more, and… Yeah…”  
  
Harry chuckles as Niall’s voice falters. He pulls out a pen from his shirt pocket (seriously? Why does he even have pens in there? Well at least it’s useful) and gently pulls Niall’s wrist closer to him. He scribbles his number on the blonde’s forearm and for good measure, adds a couple of “xx’s” on the end.  
  
Niall’s apparently too surprised for words so Harry grins animatedly and sticks the pen behind his ear where it pokes out from his mass of curls.  
  
Harry and Niall continue walking until Niall stops in the middle of the sidewalk, frowning at the sky. “It’s raining,” he murmurs softly.  
  
“I don’t feel any rain,” Harry looks up as well before a big fat raindrop falls directly onto his cheek. “Shit, it is.”  
  
The rain starts to fall down harder and faster, and soon enough, the two boys are running for cover in an alleyway, almost completely soaking wet, underneath the edge of a roof.  
  
(Harry’s disappointed that his curls have gone limp from the water, but he doesn’t pay attention to it quite as much as noticing the fact that Niall’s standing so close to him that their shoulders are touching.)  
  
Harry can hear Niall’s teeth chattering beside him. “You cold?” He asks, watching a faint blush creeps up the other lad’s neck and cheeks.  
  
“Yeah… A little.”  
  
“Come here,” Harry gestures (maybe a little too happily) to his inviting arms, where he holds Niall’s shivering body.  
  
“Th-thanks,” he chatters, blushing furiously.  
  
There’s a short silence in the air, before Harry announces completely randomly, taking the risk that their conversation might end up quite awkward, “You’re kinda cute when you blush.”  
  
Niall nearly yelps and laughs afterwards. “What? No, I definitely wouldn’t call it cute.”  
  
“I would,” Harry beams happily at Niall who is snuggled up close to his chest.  
  
Niall just laughs. “You’re crazy.”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“You are,” Niall says, almost affectionately, as he tilts his head up to look at Harry and Jesus, have his eyes always been that bright?  
  
Before he can stop himself, or even stop to think if it’s a good idea, Harry pulls Niall out into the rain, his fingers tugging on the already damp material of Niall’s t-shirt at the hip. He leans down, seeing Niall smile before he closes his eyes, and without any further though, gently presses his lips against the other boy, tasting sugar and blueberries and something like peppermints. Harry can smell the sweet odour of rain in the air, and he’s always loved the smell of rain, but this time, it makes no imprint in his brain as Niall’s kissing him tentatively, the water getting in between them and making everything messy; but Harry doesn’t really care.  
  
They’re soaked to the bone by now, the rain streaming off their hair, colouring Niall’s a little bit darker and turning Harry’s curls even more limp. Their lips work together, Niall more confident now, and Harry brings one hand up to the back of Niall’s wet neck, rubbing little circles with the pad of his thumb, his other hands trailing down the smaller boy’s dripping t-shirt and resting at his hip. Niall’s lips are oh-so-soft, and totally kissable, if he does say so himself. They break apart for air, and _holy fuck_ , Harry’s watching Niall’s tongue trace against his pink, newly kissed lips, the rain making everything so shiny and wet and _hot_. And Harry can’t help it as he dives in again, nearly attacking the other boy with his mouth.   
  
(You know those stories of butterflies exploding in your stomach when you kiss that person you’ve wanted to kiss since…forever? Harry thinks; yeah, no. He hasn’t got butterflies, maybe some fireworks or carts full of dynamite exploding inside of him, or _something_ like that, because no, this is better than butterflies. As far as butterflies-in-stomach standards go, anyway.)  
  
Niall’s nibbling at Harry’s bottom lip, while running calloused fingers through Harry’s (not-so-curly) curls, and it’s all just a little too overwhelming. Harry flicks his tongue out, tasting Niall’s lips, and there’s definitely a bit of teeth and tongue and hands roaming everywhere but he can’t bring himself to mind all that much. It’s quite enjoyable, really, with the feeling of soft lips against his, and _oh_ , now they’re at his neck and he’s letting out a girly whine and Niall giggles, while sucking and nipping at the soft, damp skin of Harry’s neck.  
  
By this time, Niall is running his tongue over the newly-formed love bite on Harry’s neck, and Harry looks up at the rain that’s starting to slow down on its way down.  
  
“Mmm,” Harry mumbles after what could have been minutes, hours, as Niall drags his lips back to the other boy’s. “That was nice.”  
  
(And it was; kissing Niall is sort of like seventh heaven and pure bliss itself.)  
  
“‘Twas indeed,” Niall agrees softly, his lips curling upwards into a smile. All Harry really wants to do is stand there and kiss Niall and his lovely pink lips all day, but he’s feeling shivery and figures his nose will probably be dripping a fair bit in the morning.  
  
“We should go inside,” Harry says, pulling away and meeting Niall’s gaze. “Somewhere. Before you catch a cold.”  
  
“I suppose,” Niall giggles softly, his hands around Harry’s neck. “You’re a good kisser,” he says sweetly, pressing their foreheads together.  
  
“I could say the same,” Harry responds, wiggling his nose a bit so it touches the other’s, then he purses his lips just a tad and gently brushes them against Niall’s. “But as much as I like kissing you, I don’t want you to get sick, which would mean I wouldn’t get to kiss you as often.”  
  
“Are you implying that there’s gonna be a next time?” Niall waggles his eyebrows playfully and Harry’s face goes a bit warm, tempted to respond with, _of course, how could I not want to kiss you again_ ( _and again and again and again and again_ )?  
  
Niall only laughs and presses his lips against Harry’s once more, sort of lovingly, and soft, before taking his hand almost hesitantly. Harry intertwines their fingers together and squeezes tight, because heck, it’s Niall.  
  
They make their way down the sidewalk, occasionally jumping in puddles and splashing their already soaked bodies. Harry’s hand never leaves Niall’s.  
  
Finally, Niall stops in front of a cute little apartment, his fingers only letting go of the other’s for a short time while he takes a key out of his pocket, and then they’re back in place. It’s almost as though their hands were made for each other, their fingers slotting so perfectly together.  
  
(Harry finds it cute and can’t help but glance down at the two skin tones mingled together, and grin so widely that his feels like it’s about to split as his heart _thumpthumthumps_ like crazy in his chest.)  
  
They go inside and Harry automatically strips himself of his sopping wet shirt. He catches Niall looking at his torso and definitely doesn’t strike a silly pose. Not at all.  
  
Niall leaves the room, but soon comes back already changed donning grey sweatpants and a fuzzy sweater (much to Harry’s dismay, he thought he could sneak a peek at half-naked Niall too. But then, he shakes the thoughts out of his mind because they did sound a fair bit creepy, and he’s not creepy. Not too much, at least).  
  
“Here, I think these’ll fit ya, they’re mine but I don’t wear ‘em too often,” Niall tosses a large blue shirt and grey trackpants to Harry who catches them, and Niall walks through a doorway with a small grin, leaving Harry to change.  
  
“Thanks,” Harry says afterwards (a little late, as Niall’s already gone, oops), and he breathes in the smell of the clothes as he pulls the shirt over his head. It smells like fresh laundry detergent, but at the same time he can just make out the scent of Niall, stronger and sweeter than the other scent.  
  
( _Okay_ , Harry thinks, _maybe I am a bit creepy_.)  
  
Harry finishes changing and wanders through in the general direction Niall went, finding the blonde sitting on a plush sofa, almost completely disappeared under some blankets.  
  
“What time is it?” He asks softly, causing Niall’s head to spin around to look in his direction.  
  
“You look good in my clothes,” Niall says with a tilt of his head, then blinks hard realizing Harry asked him a question. “Oh,” he replies, sinking down under the blankets in clear embarrassment, with a glance to the small table beside the couch. “8:06.”  
  
“Thanks,” Harry grins. Then, “Umm, I should, erm, leave soon, unless..?” He raises his eyebrow at Niall whose head pops back up.  
  
“No, it’s okay! You can stay here for the night, if you like,” Niall pats the cushion on the sofa beside him, and Harry is happy to oblige. Niall throws the blanket over Harry’s legs as well, as both lads huddle under the heat of the blanket and the heat radiating off one another’s bodies.  
  
They sit like that for a while, after Niall puts his hand gently on top of Harry’s, then Harry flips his hand over so their fingers can entwine.  
  
Niall nods off a couple of time, and Harry watches affectionately as Niall’s big baby blues flutter closed only to blink and open again.  
  
“Hi Harry,” he whispers softly, peeking out from underneath his thick lashes.  
  
“Hi, Niall,” Harry replies, gently leaning down and connecting their lips together. They kiss lazily for a little bit and even half-asleep, Niall is a fantastic kisser.  
  
Harry chuckles as Niall’s head goes to his shoulder. “Tired?” He asks.  
  
“Yeah, a bit,” Niall mumbles back, his whole body leaning into Harry’s and soon the boy is dozing.  
  
(Three minutes later, and Niall’s not the only one sleeping.)  
  
—-  
  
When Harry’s eyes flutter open in the morning, the first thing he thinks is, _shit, I’m gonna miss my class_. Next thing that pops into his head is, he’s confused as to where he is, why he has such a bad kink in his neck, and why there’s a fluffy head on his chest and –  
  
Ahh.  
  
Niall’s apartment, Niall sleeping on him, and Niall.  
  
Harry lifts his head a bit to look at the blonde boy whose cheek is against his torso, Harry only seeing the top of the blonde head. He starts to smile like an idiot again and lets his head fall back against the cushion as his fingers trace invisible patterns on Niall’s back and through Niall’s soft hair. As Harry drifts off into sleep again (not really giving a fuck about Uni) he figures, he can probably get used to this.  
  
(The next time he wakes up is to Niall peppering his face and neck with kisses, so yeah, _he can definitely get used to this_.)


End file.
